


Il Fuoco d'Italia

by ArtemisRayne



Series: The Beast of Brooklyn [2]
Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bad Parenting, Ballet Dancer Racetrack, Bilingual Character(s), Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Families of Choice, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hopeful Ending, Immigration & Emigration, M/M, Missing Scene, Mother-Son Relationship, POV Original Character, Parent-Child Relationship, Poor Life Choices, Redemption, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25621024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisRayne/pseuds/ArtemisRayne
Summary: Sofia Higgins has done very little right in her adult life. Abandoning her son one last time might be the first good thing she's done in years.----Post-epilogue scene from "The Beast of Brooklyn"
Relationships: Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins, background Jack Kelly/David Jacobs
Series: The Beast of Brooklyn [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1857181
Comments: 11
Kudos: 63





	Il Fuoco d'Italia

**Author's Note:**

> So right after finishing The Beast of Brooklyn, I had an idea of a little post-epilogue to flesh out the character of Race's mother. This was all head-canon and I wanted to convey that. So I wrote 95% of this and then - promptly forgot about the entire thing for 18 months. I just discovered this while going through some old files in my writing drive and although it's in no way important to the overall story, I'm fond of this little piece and thought I'd share it.

Sofia Higgins has done very little right in her adult life. 

Not to say that every choice in her life has been a bad one. She doesn't regret the spontaneous trip across Europe after she turned eighteen, a whirlwind tour to find herself. She doesn't regret saying yes to the charming Venetian pastry chef who filled her world with wonder and passion. She doesn't regret the life she and her baker built together in a tiny New York apartment, barely making ends meet but always so happy just being together. And most of all, she doesn't regret the little bundle of blond curls and blue eyes, the tiny boy with her face and his father's spirit. 

If Sofia had to pick the greatest accomplishment of her life, it would undoubtedly be the birth of her son, Antonio. 

The problem is that it's been a very long time since Sofia has done right by her boy. She knows it, and there's not a day that she doesn't hate herself for not being the mother her treasure deserves. It was never supposed to be this way. She loves Antonio more than life itself. It's just that somewhere along the way, she forgot that. 

Or no, didn't _forget_ , she supposes. She lost that fact, buried beneath the tar-like misery of her grief. Watching her charming pastry chef wither and die in front of her nearly drowned her and, suddenly alone in the world with only the responsibility of parenthood and the ghost of her husband, Sofia found refuge in the only thing that could dull the pain. 

And her beautiful boy got left behind in the process. 

The Metropolitan Opera House is packed, bodies in every seat of the glamorous theatre. It's a cavernous place, rows and rows of balconies, everything lined in gold that gleams beneath the overhead lights. This is a world she's never known, the splendor and luxury of the rich that a woman like her could never have achieved, even before she threw her life away. 

Sofia feels horribly and impossibly out of place in her thin dress bought from a secondhand store for the occasion. She can feel the eyes of other patrons on her, men in crisp suits and women draped in glittering jewelry sending suspicious looks her way. It makes her skin crawl with anxiety, fidgeting with the sleeves of her cardigan to be sure her arms - and the livid, telling scars inside her elbows - stay covered. 

The house lights go down, plunging the auditorium into darkness, and a hush settles over the audience. Orchestra music swells. The curtains part. The stage comes to life. 

It's far from the first ballet that Sofia has seen in her life, although this would undoubtedly be one of the few that could be considered professional. In the years before her husband's death, her life was filled with yearly ballet recitals, children showing off the skills they've learned for the approval of their parents. Those nights are some of Sofia's most precious memories, the pride and pleasure of seeing her boy so happy. 

This production is lightyears away from those silly childish shows. They have clearly wasted no expense on the sets and the costumes, and the figures that float about the stage are as graceful as birds. There is no stumbling or forgetting their moves or breaking character to surreptitiously wave at their parents in the audience. These dancers are the elite, the kind that seem to exist in a plane of reality wholly removed from the rest of the world. 

Sofia has never seen _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ before, but it's surprisingly easy to follow the silent story as it progresses. The dancers are so incredibly expressive, their faces and bodies moving perfectly in time with the music to tell a tale without a single word. Lovelorn couples lost in the woods, and then-

A new figure bursts onto the stage, accompanied by a fluttery, cheery shift in the music, and the rest of the world vanishes from Sofia's awareness. The boy on the stage glides like an ice skater, and when he leaps, it seems to defy all laws of gravity. The only clothing he wears is a set of navy tights, while every inch of visible skin is covered in beautiful, exotic paintwork, glittering layers of blue and silver on pale flesh. The riot of blond curls on his head bounces as the spritely boy prances the stage, and there's a smile on his face, one full of mischief and wonder and joy. 

Clasping her hands in front of her mouth, Sofia hastily blinks away her tears so she doesn't miss a second of her son's performance. 

Antonio is a masterpiece, entirely in his element on the stage. It's a passion that Sofia has been able to see since he was a tiny boy learning his first pirouette, something deep within his soul that comes to life when he dances. _Il Fuoco d'Italia_ , her husband always called it. The fires of Italy, alive inside her boy. Sofia knew, from that very first recital, that one day this would be her son's destiny. 

That said, actually seeing it for herself is a surreal experience. Part of her can't believe it, can't match the magical, ethereal creature on the stage with her silly, loud-mouthed little boy. The other part is swelling with that same exact pride she felt every single time she sat down to watch her son perform, from that very first performance as a tottering preschooler. 

The scene ends, and as the stage goes dark, Sofia slumps back in her chair and wipes her streaming eyes. Her heart beats so hard it makes her breathless. She feels exhausted, as if she poured so much of her strength into absorbing the sight of her son on the stage that she has none left. Sofia is so stunned and awed and proud that she can barely contain it. 

And to think she almost didn't get to see this. 

Of the many questionable choices that Sofia has made in her life, one that she can't regret is leaving her son behind one last time. It was painful, but for the first time, Sofia had run away for Antonio's sake. For years, she never really understood what she had put her son through. Having Antonio with her while she grieved was a comfort, the smiles he gave on good days the only thing that made living on worth the pain. Sofia assumed, foolishly, that staying together was what was best for both of them. 

Except she'd been wrong. It took Antonio's breakdown at her hospital bedside to realize the extent to which she'd been making him suffer. Sofia thought he understood just how much she loved him, that he knew he was the only reason she stayed alive, but it seemed she'd been wrong. Actions speak louder than words, of course. It didn't matter how much she said it when she went on to alienate him with her choices. 

So, for the first time in a long time, Sofia paid attention. She noticed the way that Antonio tread so carefully around her, and his expressions of painfully fragile hope when he tried to share his life with her. She listened to the warm, fond way he talked about his new friends, these strangers that had taken care of him through the summer. Sofia saw the way that Antonio's entire demeanor changed when his friend, the policeman, arrived, and the way he immediately sought comfort from this man in a way he hadn't with his mother for years. 

In the end, it all added up to one agonizing conclusion: her presence in his life was only causing him pain. 

It wasn't an easy truth to accept, but Sofia could see that her boy - who is so close to being a man now - is better off without her. Antonio had found a new home, a new family, and it was cruel and selfish of her to take him away from that. So even though it broke her heart, Sofia had taken the first chance she found to remove herself from the picture. 

Of course, she hadn't been able to cut the ties completely; in her goodbye letter, she left the address of where she'd been staying through the summer, knowing her friend would pass along any messages if Antonio reached out. She didn't expect to actually hear from him, figured that she'd broken his heart for the final time. Getting an envelope in the mail, containing a short note explaining about an upcoming performance and a single ticket, brought tears to her eyes. 

Antonio might never forgive her, but at least he's willing to try, and she's grateful for whatever tiny connection she can keep with one of the two greatest loves of her life. 

The ballet goes on, and her boy flits in and out of scenes, bringing mischief and mayhem to the story as he does. Sofia can't help but think this role was made for Antonio, her silly, playful boy who never failed to lighten a dark day and brought her the few laughs she's felt since Giuseppe's death. Antonio is joy incarnate, and he encapsulates it on the stage. 

At intermission, Sofia slips out to the restroom to splash water on her face. She's grateful that she didn't wear much makeup because her tears would certainly have ruined it by now. There's no masking the red at the edges of her eyes, though, no matter how she tries to dry her face. 

Through the second half of the ballet, Sofia lets herself forget, for a moment, that she is no longer a part of Antonio's life. She allows herself to just be the mother of a child who is fulfilling his life's dream, and she brims over with pride and wonder. A brave, stubborn boy who continued to chase his goal no matter how dark the world around him grew. Clutching the gold band hanging from a chain at her neck, Sofia prays that her husband can see this. 

_Giuseppe, you would be so proud of our little tesoro._

The ballet ends too soon, the performers joining hands across the stage to bow for an audience on its feet. A standing ovation, these incredible children getting the recognition they deserve. Sofia claps so hard her hands hurt. 

She stays at her seat as the rest of the audience filters out of the doors afterward, still uncomfortable in such a large crowd. Far too much of her life over the last few years has been spent in solitude and anonymity. Even her staggered jobs were always quiet and background - maid or dishwasher or laundry - whatever she could find to keep a roof over their heads until the bosses eventually found out about her addiction or she missed too many days of work while recovering from a high. 

It's only once the majority of the people have gone that Sofia makes her way to the doors. The general population has escaped into the late summer night, returning to their lives of wealth and comfort. Of the crowds still milling in the foyer, Sofia can tell that most of them are family of performers, clustered around the teens and showering them in praise. 

Although it doesn't seem that Antonio has emerged from backstage yet, Sofia immediately recognizes one figure among a group and knows that these people must be the ones here for her son. She has only met the one, the brave policeman who takes better care of her son than she did; who was there to keep Antonio safe when Sofia's bad habits put him in danger. The officer is a hero, a man who took a bullet to defend her boy and risked his life to make sure that a dangerous criminal - more than one, actually - will no longer be able to hurt anyone else. 

The group of four raises up a tidal wave of noise when Antonio slips out through the doors. He's now wearing jeans and a loose teeshirt, his face and forearms still decorated in smudged blue and silver paints. There's a blinding grin on his face that makes his eyes sparkle as he's swept into a ring of hugs and playful ribbing. It makes her heart ache, even as it soothes her conscience. 

These people love her Antonio, have given him the family he deserves, and that is why Sofia doesn't regret leaving him in their care. 

Sofia presses herself back against a far wall, lingering, debating with herself about whether she should stay. Just because Antonio invited her doesn't necessarily mean that he wants to see her. Perhaps she should go. Let him know through a letter that she was there and that she will always treasure every second of this memory. Or maybe she shouldn't say at all, let him continue to think of Sofia only as an absent disappointment, so she doesn't risk breaking his heart again. 

"You should talk to him." 

Startled, Sofia scrambles a step away from the deep voice at her side. She didn't hear him approach, but when she looks, there's a young man with a strong jaw and dark features. Despite the crisp suit he's wearing for the occasion, there's a pair of silver bars in his eyebrow, half-hidden by his hair, and beneath one eye is a tattoo of a single black dot. It's that final detail that makes recognition set in, and Sofia's eyes widen. 

"You're the boy, the one he loves," she guesses, remembering the nickname Antonio gave him. "Spot." 

The boy's lips twitch in a faint smile. "Yeah, that's me," he agrees. "And you're his mom. You look just like him, ya know." Then he jerks his head in the direction of the group still gathered around her son, who is now receiving pats and praise from various others in the lobby. "You should go talk to him." 

"He won't want to see me," Sofia responds, shaking her head. 

"If he didn't want to see ya, he wouldn't have asked ya to come," Spot says, his gaze intent. "We both know Tony doesn't do things he don't wanna. He misses you. You're still his mom. He'll want to know you was here, at least." 

"I can't-" Sofia falters, emotion catching in her throat. This boy loves her son; he'd know Antonio far better than she does anymore. She gazes across the foyer longingly to where her boy is laughing with a few of the other dancers. "Are you sure?" 

Spot gives another small half-smile. "Wait here," he says. Without another word, he heads back to Antonio's side. Taking her son's hand, Spot draws Antonio down to murmur in his ear. 

Antonio's head snaps up, eyes wide, and he immediately looks over to pan his gaze along the wall until it finally lands on her. Shock makes his face go slack, blinking at her like he can't believe what he's seeing. He's not the only one staring now, the rest of his group glancing over, but Sofia's eyes are only for Antonio. They stay like that, locked in a staring competition until Spot nudges him gently. 

Staggering one step, Antonio swallows and then almost sprints across the lobby. "Mamma," he gasps out just before he throws his arms around her. Sofia can't muffle a quiet sob as she hugs him back, cradling her beautiful boy against her. 

She can't hold him the way she once did; he's grown too much, several inches taller than her now just like her husband always was. That doesn't stop him from tucking his face into the side of her neck as he clings to her. "Mamma, _sei venuto_?" (You came?)

" _Ovviamente_ ," Sofia answers in the Italian that she uses so rarely, tied to too many memories of her charming pastry chef. " _Sono così orgoglioso di te. Papà sarebbe così orgoglioso._ " (Of course. I'm so proud of you. Papa would be so proud.)

Antonio sucks in a breath that is damp and shaking, then draws back. His cheeks are flushed, eyes rimmed in red from the tears rolling down his face. Scrubbing the back of his wrist over them, smearing paint and glitter in the process, he surveys her face like he's drinking in every detail. "I've missed you," he admits quietly. 

"I've missed you too, _mio tesoro_ ," Sofia says. "So, so much." 

"I - thank you," Antonio whispers. "For coming." 

Sofia smiles softly, her own eyes watering as she reaches up to push his long curls from his brow. He closes his eyes and leans slightly into the touch, the same way he always did as a child. "I would not have missed this for the world," she says sincerely. "You were beautiful. _Fuoco_ _d'Italia_." 

Antonio chokes a small laugh, blinking at her with the eyes that are so like her own. He licks his lips and hastily wipes his cheeks dry again. Glancing over his shoulder, Antonio clears his throat awkwardly. "Mamma, will you meet my friends?" he asks, timid and uncertain. 

Nervous, Sofia looks passed her son to the small cluster of people who are embroiled in a conversation, clearly trying to give them privacy. "They will hate me," she says, shaking her head. 

"No, they won't," Antonio counters, squeezing her hand. "Please?" 

Sofia glances up into her boy's face, his eyes wide with fragile hope, and her heart breaks. She's disappointed him so many times. She can't do it again, not right now on a day that should be his happiest. Tentatively, Sofia nods. 

Antonio's expression brightens, and he leads her by the hand over to the group. Trembling with nerves, Sofia flinches slightly when all eyes turn to her. "Guys, I want you to meet my mom," Antonio says, beaming. 

"It's nice to see you again, Mrs. Higgins," says the policeman, offering an encouraging smile. Sofia weakly attempts to return it.

"Mamma, you've met Jack," Antonio says, nodding to the officer. "And this's his brother, Charlie," a younger boy with leg braces, who is gazing up in childish wonder, "and Davey," a tall, lean man with sharp features but soft eyes. 

Then Antonio turns his gaze to the other boy, to Spot, and his entire face warms. It's a look that Sofia recognizes; she had seen it on her son's face even that very first time he told her about his new friend who is so much more. It's the same way Giuseppe looked at her when he asked her to run away with him. _Amore._

"And this is Spot," Antonio says, smiling, a faint blush blooming in his cheeks. "I told you about him, remember?"

"I remember," Sofia agrees. Spot glances at her and gives a small nod, approving. Sofia looks between Jack and Davey, and shyly adds, "I want to thank you for all you've done for my son."

"S'our pleasure, ma'am," Jack replies. "He's a good kid." 

Sofia glances up at Antonio's face and smiles. " _Sì_ , a very good boy," she says adoringly. "A good man," she amends a second later because her son is no longer a child. Has not had that chance for a long time now.

Lifting her hand and kissing the back of it, Antonio shares her small smile. His gaze darts once to Jack, a question in his eyes, and when the officer nods, Antonio says, "Mamma, we're going to dinner now, to celebrate. Will you come? Please?" 

Sofia glances uncertainly at the others, but in the end, she finds the answer in the way that her son tightens his grip on her hand. She never thought she would have a chance like this again, an opportunity to be a part of her boy's life, even in this small way. Although she's given him no reason to ever trust her, Antonio is willing to let her try. He is so much stronger than she has ever been, a perfect testament to the good father he lost. 

" _Sì, tesoro_ ," she says, and there's no mistaking the wash of relief that crosses Antonio's face. "I would like that." 

The joy that blossoms on Antonio's face is like summer sunshine. As they start for the doors, he offers his arm, and Sofia takes it with a charmed smile, heedless of the flaking paint decorating his skin. Antonio chatters eagerly, telling her all about what he's been up to recently, about school and the ballet company and his new family. The others interject playfully, a pleasant camaraderie as they bicker and tease like siblings. 

Sofia hangs onto Antonio's arm as they walk, and her heart is so full that she can barely breathe. For all the mistakes she's made in her life, to still have this moment is a blessing. To be allowed to let her life brush alongside this shining star in even this small way. 

"Mamma?" Antonio asks quietly, and there's a concerned furrow in his brow as he looks down at her. " _Esne bene_?" (Are you okay?)

Beaming, Sofia nods and squeezes his arm. " _Si, mio tesoro_ ," she assures him, and although her eyes are damp, the tears don't fall. "I'm very, very happy." Comprehension dawns on Antonio's face, and he leans to press a soft kiss to her cheek. 

"Oh, Mamma, you remember my friend Specs from school?" he adds brightly. "Guess what he's doing this year!" 

Yes, Sofia Higgins has done very little right in her lifetime, but if the only good thing that comes from her time on earth is her treasure, the dazzling soul of her precious Antonio, it was all worth it.


End file.
